


In the dead of the night

by KailynMei



Series: High Hopes [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Drug Use (not the main characters), Lack of Communication, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Pining, Prank almost gone wrong, Protective Otabek Altin, Swearing, Yura ain't afraid of no ghost, a lot of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KailynMei/pseuds/KailynMei
Summary: “And for how long has it been abandoned, again?”“Ten years, fifteen years? Does it matter?” The halo of his flashlight made Otabek’s dark eyes glint. A white cloud rose from his friend’s mouth as he shook his head with a sigh. “Who cares, Beka? Jeez, hurry up! It's the most popular urbex spot here. Don't tell me you’re chickening out? You promised.”Yuri was fierce. Yuri was anything but a coward. Yet, he wished Otabek would hold him a bit longer.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: High Hopes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082021
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	In the dead of the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taedae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taedae/gifts), [venom_for_free](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venom_for_free/gifts).



> Thanks to [Taedae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taedae/pseuds/Taedae) for beta reading this fic so quickly. Any remaining errors are my own because proofreading a non-native English speaker is hard. It's my first YoI fic and only my second fic in English. I usually don't write slice of life/realist stories, so I'm 100% out of my comfort zone here.
> 
> This fic is also a Halloween gift for [Taedae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taedae/pseuds/Taedae) (yes, sorry my dear for making you beta read your gift) and [Venom_for_free](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venom_for_free) because I love you both :3

“And for how long has it been abandoned, again?”

Realising Otabek wasn’t following him, Yuri stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder at his friend, a silhouette barely visible in the thick shadows of the night, street lights faintly gleaming far behind him. More slush fell from the sky, and Yuri scrunched his nose against the wind, biting his exposed skin with icy wet flakes. A shiver crept down his spine. He burrowed his face in his scarf.

“Ten years, fifteen years? Does it matter?” The halo of his flashlight made Otabek’s dark eyes glint. A white cloud rose from his friend’s mouth as he shook his head with a sigh. “Who cares, Beka? Jeez, hurry up!”

Yuri kicked an empty beer can forgotten on the floor. A wave of satisfaction warmed the pit of his stomach when it rolled down the concrete steps and disappeared into the night with a series of fading clanks. Better, much better. But not enough to stir Otabek.

His friend didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even answer him. Yuri clenched his jaw and huffed. Otabek’s eyes were still riveted on the hospital façade. A frown drew his brows together. He scowled at the old, blackened statues framing the entrance, hard workers sculpted in the purest soviet style, and pursed his lips even more. Did he expect to melt them with the sheer strength of his stare?

Most people couldn’t tell, but it wasn’t Otabek’s usual resting bitch face. There was a subtle hint of concern, betrayed by his hunched shoulders. Yuri rolled his eyes. He should’ve come alone. Although, if he had been alone, he wouldn’t have dared come at all. The admission left a lingering sour taste on his tongue, though. Yuri was anything but a coward. “Come on, it’s the most popular urbex spot here. Don't tell me you’re chickening out? You promised.”

Otabek didn’t, and he didn't even dignify with an answer as he climbed the last steps with a shrug, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his winter coat. Being ignored was even more infuriating, but Yuri bit his inner cheek before more venom dripped from his mouth. Fifteen years old, he would’ve thrown a tantrum or taunted Otabek, but he’d learned to pick his battles. Most of the time. Otabek was such a party pooper sometimes, it was hard to just _humph_ and turn his back to him.

When he’d suggested this little adventure, he expected Otabek to show at least a bit of excitement. It was Otabek’s birthday and Halloween in a few days, so visiting an abandoned and presumably haunted hospital was the coolest idea ever. But his friend just drove him and now made it obvious he didn’t want to be there. Otabek didn’t look like he wanted to be anywhere near him lately, yet was still shadowing him. 

‘Cool Otabek’ must have died at the same time Yuri turned eighteen. 

Did Otabek really want to go back to Viktor’s impromptu party? The old man had invited them all over for a lame gathering since it was their last free night before the upcoming competition, and Yuri let Katsudon-fucking-doe-eyes-Yūri talk him into it because, yeah, _Viktor would be so happy to see him, and Katsudon too, and it was soon Otabek’s birthday, and Halloween, and what about their friends_ —cross that, _competitors_ ? Granted, Viktor’s vodka was only half-bad, his choice of music didn’t totally suck ass—thanks to Beka for helping—but Yuri was going to puke if he saw more people cooing and shoving their tongues in each other's mouths and cooing even more like fucking pigeons in love. That sappy display of affection was _so_ gross. Couldn't they just get a room and fuck like normal young people do? Well, Viktor was already expired, but Katsudon wasn't that old _yet_. And JJ and Isabella. They were disgusting. Jesus fucking Christ, who needed to witness how happy they were to be married?

Yuri gritted his teeth, anger bubbling up. It didn’t subside when he took in the vast hallway, but at least it didn’t flare up and set their friendship aflame.

Otabek followed him closely as Yuri sauntered past empty bottles, used syringes, and pieces of broken furniture. Their footsteps echoed between the decrepit walls, glass cracking under their boots. An acrid and pungent smell hit their noses as they approached another flight of stairs, leading to an open landing circling the hall. Otabek stopped and looked up, his thoughts carefully hidden behind an emotionless face. He hated the place, probably, but that didn't stop a smile from creeping across Yuri’s face as his flashlight lightened tags and obscene graffiti. Fucking cool.

He handed his phone to Otabek and skipped over to the wall, a triumphant grin playing across his lips as he posed.

“Let’s take one together!” Still beaming, he snatched his phone back. Otabek obliged, and for the first time since they left Viktor’s party, his friend’s expression softened, his lips curled up. Almost a smile. It was a lot for Otabek Altin, and Yuri held his breath as he stared at his phone screen. God, they looked so fucking hot together. Otabek looked so, so fucking hot. A pleasant tingle rippled through his stomach.

He decided to take a third picture. This time, he leaned on Otabek, head resting on his broad shoulder. Hm, hm, _nice_. Yuri was a bit taller now but not by much, as Viktor liked to remind him.

Yuri wished Otabek would snake an arm around his waist and bring him closer, but Otabek’s attempt at a smile faltered as soon as the picture was taken.

… Of course it did.

Yuri stepped aside and uploaded the first two pictures on his socials. The third one was just for him, for those evenings when he wanted to cry into his pillow for being such a simp. He didn’t have a pillow right now, though, and Otabek was here, so he held back the tears stinging his eyes and ignored the sharp pang of sadness shooting through him.

Yuri had tried many, many times those past few months to elicit new feelings in his friend, including jealousy when all his attempts had failed, but Otabek couldn’t take a hint. Or Otabek was so straight, it was less embarrassing for him to pretend he hadn’t noticed. Or he’d noticed but wasn’t interested in sex, gay or straight, so even the most subtle of Yuri’s innuendos and suggestions aggravated him, and he hated when Yuri wanted to hold his hand or snuggle up to him even by a cold night. Their friendship was falling apart, but it was too late to go back to the days when Yuri didn’t quite understand why heat flooded him when he was with Otabek, too late to go back to the nights when he didn't jerk off on pictures of his friend like a creep … 

The others made it look so easy to get together.

“Happy?” Otabek asked, already walking back toward the entrance.

“No.” Yuri hadn’t planned on visiting the entire hospital, the area was cool but not exactly inviting, but now he wanted to out of spite. Otabek’s annoyed attitude filled his mouth with a sour taste. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of ghosts?”

Otabek turned around and his eyes settled on him, one brow raised. Balling his fist and curling his other hand around the flashlight, Yuri held his gaze.

“It’s not of the ghosts I’m afraid of. We shouldn’t be here, especially at ni—Yura!”

Otabek’s footsteps chased after him when he flew up the stairs, but he refused to still. Once he reached the landing, he hurried into the first hallway he saw and only slowed down when he’d passed a few doors leading to operation rooms. He walked down the corridor a bit more, ignoring Otabek’s calls, his decayed surroundings getting his undivided attention. He’d said earlier the hospital had been abandoned for ten or fifteen years, but it looked more like twenty at least. He should’ve paid more attention when Chris showed him pictures of the building a few weeks ago. 

Otabek was freaking out now. Served him right. Really, thinking he could be kidnapped by a ghost … 

A crack; like a finger popping. Yuri froze, muscles tightening. He pointed his flashlight and played it over the end of the corridor. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. It was probably just a rat, a stray cat perhaps.

Something, _someone_ grabbed his wrist. Yuri’s heart raced.

Otabek.

Yuri met his gaze, challenging. “What the fuck, Beka?” He hissed.

“We don’t know who could be here.”

“Who, another urbexer?” Of course Otabek didn't mean another urbexer. Yuri was just too stubborn, too proud to admit out loud he was being reckless.

Otabek scowled, fingers tightening their grip around his flesh. Now that Yuri’s heart wasn’t going to tunnel its way out of his chest, he wished his friend would grab him by the hips instead of the wrist, slam him hard against the nearest wall, and devour his mouth. It didn't matter that the smell of urine was even stronger here. If he wanted it to be romantic, he would’ve asked Viktor for his favourite restaurant and then chose a different place on Yelp, once he knew which one to avoid.

With a click of his tongue, Yuri snatched his wrist out of Otabek’s grip. He then pointed his flashlight at the end of the corridor.

“There’s another exit this way.” He would be damn if he turned back. That was so lame.

“Just don't run around.”

“Whatever.”

They walked past more rooms, Yuri snapped more pictures, took more selfies, read more comments from his angels saying he looked like he was having fun with Beka, even convinced Otabek to pose with him again—more material for his loneliest nights. His anger faded away, a dying ember of a worn out fire. A turn, another one, and they had to carefully climb a pile of rumble, the last vestiges of a collapsed roof. Otabek looked up at the hole in the ceiling with a concerned frown.

Their corridor intersected another one again, and Yuri stopped, his eyes flicking between their options. The derelict hospital had lost all its charm. There were far too many dark rooms, far too many rusting bed frames and broken pieces of furniture. The floor was covered in cheap vodka bottles, beer cans, and shattered glass. And he wasn’t stupid, of course he realised most of those syringes weren’t a memory of a glorious soviet past. He wanted to go back to his hotel room, hide under a warm blanket, and look hopelessly at his pathetic collection of Otabek’s pictures.

“Yura?”

Otabek’s hand brushed his. Yuri turned his head, pondering as Otabek gazed at him. If only they didn’t wear gloves. His fingers almost locked with Otabek’s, questions almost rushed out of his mouth. _Almost_. What if Otabek said ‘no’?

Another crack. Yuri jerked his head up toward the direction of the sound, flashing his torch at a half-open glass-paneled door. He only caught what appeared to be a row of rusted desks. Still, cold beads of sweat rolled down his back.

It was fine. Yuri wasn’t scared at all. He was _never_ scared. He was tough as nails, the kind of fierce person who always leaps to his feet even with broken bones. He didn’t believe in ghosts anyway. Ghost stories were just bullshit they told every Halloween to the newbies competing in senior for the first time because it was fun to see the doubt and the fear in their wide eyes. _“This ice rink is haunted. A skater broke all his bones trying an impossible jump, a quint. They killed themself because they knew they would never skate again, and now they wait for someone to train … alone … Because if they can’t skate anymore, no one should”._

JJ disapproved, of course. That was ‘mean’ and ‘bad’. Really, Bella should teach his man how good it was to be mean and bad.

But Yuri didn’t believe in those ghost stories … until a rattle rang in his ears. Until eerie whispers and cries of pain came from all around them. His stomach tightened and twisted. He didn’t just lock his fingers with Otabek’s, he squeezed his hand and didn’t let go.

Otabek set his jaw, squared his shoulders, and glared into the darkness with a dangerous glint in his eyes. He didn’t ask out loud who was fucking with them, though. Instead, he tugged at Yuri’s hand and led them way, pace steady but still not fast enough for Yuri’s taste. The hair in the back of Yuri’s neck stood up. He was glad his friend couldn’t feel how clammy his palm was.

A door slammed with a huge bang. Yuri wasn’t scared, he was tough, fierce, was all of those things at the same time, but he still bolted. He would later deny having squealed. He would later deny the bony fingers of Death that clawed at his back. But for now, Yuri rushed through the hospital’s corridors, barely seeing where he went despite the flashlight, Otabek tailing him, yelling him to stop before he— 

Yuri squeaked as he fell in the darkest pit of hell. When his body hit the floor, the air was knocked out of his lung, and blackness embraced him for what could be just a few seconds or the whole eternity … 

As he stirred a bit with a groan, a searing pain stabbed his right side, his arm, his ankle, and spread through his upper body, flaming each of his nerves and forcing him back into consciousness. Trembling, he gasped for air.

“Yura!”

Yuri rolled into a ball. He was tough, he was fierce, but he snapped his eyes shut and pressed his lips tight, barely managing to stifle a cry.

Strong arms pulled him against an equally strong chest. The comforting fragrance of Otabek’s cologne curled around him. He hid his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck, a pleasant warmth seeping into him despite the severe pain still nagging him. He fell through the floor, but if that meant ending in Otabek’s arms, it’s totally worth it.

“Yura, are you okay? Can you walk? Are you in pain?”

“Yes. Yes. No … I’m fine.” Was he? Yuri nibbled his lips. It was just a small fall, nothing to fret about. The pain would soon fade. It had to.

“I’m bringing you to a hospital.”

“I’m _fine_ , Beka.” What if they found something? He would’ve to drop out of the competition before it even started. He curled his lips. Yuri Plisetsky never gave up. If the pain didn’t wear off, he would fight it. And win.

Otabek sighed. “Okay … Let me help you …”

He easily pulled Yuri to his feet and, just like that, their embrace was over.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shiiiiit_. Yuri should’ve said he was in too much pain to walk, which would’ve only been half a lie. Otabek would’ve had to carry him bridal style to his bike.

Quick footsteps approached. Otabek raised his flashlight and shone it on both Chris’s and Phichit’s dreadfully pale faces. Maybe they had been chased by ghosts too? … Oh, wait! Fuck them, and may their future children shit in their soup.

Yuri bit his lip, then clenched his teeth and his fists, almost choking with rage. He could’ve been badly hurt. He could’ve broken a bone. He could’ve never skated again. And maybe he wouldn’t, but he kicked the thought out of his mind.

“Oh my god, we’re sorry!” Chris cried out as he walked to them, hands shaking. “You okay? We didn’t mean to—”

He never got the chance to finish his sentence. Otabek closed the distance between them and punched Chris before he could duck his head. He fell back on his ass, stunned, a red mark already forming on his cheek. Phichit dropped his phone on the floor with a startled yelp.

Yuri swallowed back his venom, eyes riveted on Otabek. Fuck, that was so fucking _hot,_ and he should never wear pants that tight ever again.

“Yes, I bet you’re sorry, Chris,” Otabek growled, eyes dark and face hard. “And I hope you’ve got a good makeup artist.”

“Please don’t beat him. It was just a joke,” Phichit whispered as he crouched behind Chris and wrapped his arms around him. Chris didn’t push him away and reclined his head against Phichit’s shoulder, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Yuri briefly looked away. Otabek glared more.

“Hilarious.”

Phichit tightened his grip around Chris’s body and hung his head low.

Silence lengthened until Otabek decided the lesson was over. He turned away, grabbed Yuri’s hand, and dragged him behind him. Not that Yuri really needed to be dragged, though. He would follow Otabek anywhere, but most preferably to his bed.

“So, let me guess, Chris told you about this place?” 

Yuri just nodded. Yes, Chris did. And he’d probably eavesdropped on them earlier. Or Phichit had. His heart ached. Yuri wasn’t mad with them _trying_ to scare them—a plan bound to fail, of course, because Yuri wasn’t easily scared, hmpf. No, he was mad with them probably hooking up like fucking rabbits before _every_ competition.

Outside, the weather had stopped its pathetic attempt at snowing, but the wind was stronger and freezing. Otabek released Yuri’s hand and readjusted his scarf. Yuri waited, hand still open, fingers already missing his friend’s warmth. He wished they didn’t have gloves. He wished Otabek would just take them off with a bite and, this time, suck on each of his cold fingers and bring them back to life.

Otabek didn’t. Nor did he hold his hand again. He walked down the path toward the street, leaving a disappointed Yuri. Seething with frustration, he stomped behind his friend, catching up with him, then decided to make another statement by wrapping an arm around Otabek’s waist and pressing himself against his side.

Otabek started. Froze. Stiffened. Shot him a sidelong glance betraying his nervousness. Yuri’s heart shattered into sharp pieces but he didn’t let go. He looked Otabek dead in the eyes, the purse of his lips intensifying, anger starting to ooze from his frozen shell.

“You shouldn’t …”

“Oh, come on, Beka! Guys can fucking hug!” Yuri hissed. “And I’m cold!” _And hurt._

A confused frown. Otabek didn’t shake him away but was obviously conflicted. Yuri would’ve killed to know what thoughts were flashing through this thick skull.

“You always want to hug even when you’re not cold.” Otabek observed rather flatly.

“So what?! I like hugging you! Hugs are nice, Jesus fucking Christ!” Yuri gritted his teeth. He couldn’t believe it. Why was he even trying? His face grew hot and tears gathered in his eyes. He should see if Chris and Phichit wanted a threesome. Yeah, that sounded nicer than fighting in this balls-freezing weather. But neither of them looked like the Kazakh he was in love with.

Yuri stormed down the path. To his greatest displeasure, Otabek had no difficulty matching his pace.

“Yura … It’s just … We’re not teenagers anymore.”

“Not teenagers _anymore_? Oh, so now you can’t hug your friends once you turn eighteen?” Yuri stopped, his whole body trembling with rage. “For fuck’s sake, Beka. How can you be so fine with Viktor and Yuri literally sucking on each other tongues whenever they can, and yet be so fucking insecured and homophobic?”

“What?” A hint of red crept up Otabek’s cheeks, and his eyes widened.

“Yes, be ashamed of yourself, fucking prick.” Yuri gave him a hostile smirk and flipped him off. “But don’t worry, you won't catch ‘the gay’. It's over. I won’t ever touch you again. I won’t even train with you or support you when you skate or be worried if you slip and fall or glare at your fans when they slip you love letters. I won’t even breathe the same air as you.”

Otabek shook his head, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that …” He met Yuri’s eyes. “When you’re so close to me, it’s hard to remind myself we’re _just_ friends and not to kiss you.”

Yuri sputtered, harsh words dying on the tip of his tongue and turning into confused noises. His whole face heated and he hated that.

“You have no right to say something so sappy to me!” Yuri eventually managed to blurt out.

“ … Okay.”

“Don’t fucking ‘okay’ me, Otabek Altin!” Silence. “You really think I didn’t want to be kissed?”

Otabek lowered his scarf. An amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and reached his eyes. Yuri’s breath hitched.

“I’ve just been trying to respect your boundaries. You’ve never said you wanted to be kissed. You’ve never said _anything_ , and I’ve seen you being more than straightforward with others, so why would I have thought you were interested in me?” It wasn’t an accusation, but Yuri still averted Otabek’s eyes. “So … that’s why you’ve been so clingy lately?”

Yuri uttered an outraged shriek. “I am not ‘clingy’! I’ve been flirting with you for months, fucking idiot.”

“Really?” Otabek’s smile broadened.

“Yes, really. And now you’re telling me you wanted to kiss me and yet you didn’t initiate?”

Yuri snarled when Otabek pulled him into his arms and almost tried to wriggle out of his firm grip, but a small whisper in his ear stunned him into silence. 

“Yes. And I start to believe I should teach you how to flirt properly.”


End file.
